


Getting Lucky

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Dorks in Love, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Photography, Sex Selfies, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 16:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Prompto discovers just how much he can wreck Ignis by wearing lingerie.





	Getting Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> For Promnis Week 2019 Day 6 (January 18) Lingerie and Day 7 (January 19) Prompto ~~rides~~ fucks Ignis as he takes selfies (sorry, that's how they wanted it).
> 
> Some parts of this were originally posted to FFA a year ago (https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/317207.html?thread=1817959703#cmt1817959703) and I'm glad this gave me the incentive to get it done!

"So you think we should head for the motel?" Prompto asked. "It's getting dark."

The motel was literally straight ahead, just a few miles down the road. Ignis shot Prompto a glare, and Prompto tugged his sleeve to the side just enough to give Iggy a glimpse of what he was wearing under his tank top.

The car drifted over the center lines; Ignis of course didn't go so far as to fuck up the Regalia's doors on the guardrail, but he did jerk the wheel sharply enough to get back in lane that Noct smacked his seat and Gladio growled _the hell was that_.

Prompto grinned to himself. The stuff he was wearing was getting itchy, but it was already _so_ worth it.

*

"You are a terrible person," Ignis said, locking the motel room door and putting the chain on for good measure. After they'd arrived at the rest area, Noct had gone shopping and then they'd all had stuff-on-sticks for dinner, served up by the guy who was always hitting on Noct. Prompto had kept giving Ignis sneak peeks, telling himself he was doing a scientific study of just how long Ignis could be aroused before he snapped. Prompto was looking forward to what happened when he did.

"Are you going to show me the error of my ways?" Prompto sat down on the spare bed and tugged his boots and socks off, curling his toes against the cool floorboards. "That could be fun."

"Wait," Ignis said sharply, as Prompto reached for his belt buckle. "You've obviously gone to an effort, I certainly wouldn't want to rush the denouement." He crossed the room, each footfall decisively ominous, and when he reached Prompto he held out his hand. "Camera, please."

_Oh, shit_. Prompto felt himself go red and short of breath, and Ignis smirked at him in a _gotcha_ kind of way. Yeah, even the thought of being photographed like this – wearing this – made Prompto want to squirm. Actually doing it would push the line between turn-on and death by embarrassment, but what a way to go.

He dipped his hand into his inside pocket and pulled the camera out, passing it over. In a reciprocal gesture, Ignis popped his waist bag open, took out condoms and lube, and gave them to Prompto. Just to make sure they were on the same page. Holy fuck.

Ignis swapped the camera's memory card for their personal one deftly, their roadtrip record set aside for the moment.

"This stuff came with stockings," Prompto blurted out in a fit of nerves. "But I figured they'd end up shredded. You know."

"Have you been dressed like this all day?" Ignis asked in a way that sounded like an accusation, but Prompto knew by now meant he was clinging to self-restraint by his fingertips.

Prompto leaned back on his hands and bit his lip for show. As he looked up, trying to give Ignis the big innocent eyes, Ignis gestured for him to hold the pose, and grabbed a quick shot. Prompto held back a grin. "I had to change when we stopped for lunch, because this morning's hunt was gross. And Noct was demanding a real bed, I figured we'd end up here, so why not?"

"Why not indeed?" Ignis took a deep breath and went down on his knees, between Prompto's spread legs. "Shirt off, please. Slowly and seductively."

In a perverse way, having the camera between them and Iggy's attention similarly divided between personal interest and perfectionism regarding composition made things like this easier. When Prompto's nervousness or doubts tried to take over, he told his brain this was for Art (with a capital A, like all those naked paintings from Solheim). He tightened his stomach as he pulled the hem of his shirt up, showing off the results of training with Gladio every day – serious gains, if he said so himself.

He paused when he reached the edge of the lace, imagining what it looked like, a flash of blue under the black. Ignis took the shot and then reached up to arrange Prompto's hands so one was pulling the shirt up just far enough to reveal a nipple behind a triangle of lace. Prompto smirked through his blush – no real human being took a shirt off like this, he was pretty sure, but Ignis seemed happy.

And that was what he was going for, here.

He gave Ignis another pose as he pulled his shirt up to his shoulders. With his arms raised his chest was pushed out, and he wondered if that made him look at all like he had breasts. Probably not, he decided, and tugged the shirt off, tossing it over to the other bed and then peeking at Ignis, who was staring hungrily enough that Prompto couldn't hold back a nervous _my eyes are up here_. 

"So they are," Ignis agreed, and then knelt up quickly to close his mouth over one nipple and suck gently, using his tongue to rub the lace so that it sent strange squirmy sparks of pleasure radiating out across Prompto's chest. When the intensity had nearly reached the point where Prompto would have to push him away to keep from going totally out of his mind, Ignis pulled off and dragged his tongue sideways, sketching the V-line where cleavage was meant to go and then blowing cold on wet skin, which made Prompto jump and break out in goosebumps. He pulled Ignis' head back by the hair and bent over to kiss him, in a bitey way, because teasing was a two-way street. Ignis put up with having his tongue nipped, and dipped his fingers under the lace cups like maybe he thought Prompto wouldn't notice.

"You're incorrigible," Prompto accused, pushing him back and trying to look stern, which was hard to do when he had to bat Ignis' wandering hands away from his belt. "I'm paying you to take pictures." He tried to wave Ignis back and not laugh. "Let a man strip in peace."

"Where's the fun in that?" Ignis asked, but he collected the camera and settled back on his heels. Prompto had a very nice view of his dick, straining hard against his trousers. Ignis, of course, noticed him looking, and told him to stand and start taking off his own pants. Slowly and artistically.

Prompto saw the jolt go through him, his grip on the camera going tight and snapping off four pictures in a row as soon as the first flash of the panties' lace was visible. Prompto cocked a hip and let his trousers hang perilously, weighted down by his studded belt, as Ignis breathed himself under control and then reached up to spread the zipper into a perfect, visually pleasing frame for Prompto's cock, rising over a triangle of lace.

"Lean back," Ignis instructed, all very impatient auteur. "You can see yourself in the pictures later."

"Bossy," Prompto said, and stretched. Rolling his shoulders back as instructed (and pushing his chest out), but also stretching his arms up and canting his hips and whoops, there went the pants, straight to the floor. He stepped out and kicked them to the side. If they did this again he'd have to prepare music. Something with a hard driving beat, the way his heart was pounding like crazy now, so much that he couldn't catch his breath, standing in front of Ignis dressed like _this_ while Ignis was still fully clothed and taking picture after picture of his dick in the panties. Prompto felt like a bomb about to go off.

"Okay, wait, time out," Prompto said. Ignis raised his head with raw need on his face, which looked an awful lot like irritation. Prompto reached down and ran his fingers along Ignis' cheek. "I want my camera back and then you pull the shorts off with your teeth."

Ignis' hands curled into fists and he – well, Prompto would have to say he whimpered, even though Ignis was king of denial about that kind of thing. All signs pointed to Ignis being a hairsbreadth from coming in his pants, but Ignis breathed through it, maybe even persuading himself that Prompto hadn't noticed. Finally, he managed a shaky, "Oh, you're evil."

"You love it," Prompto shot back. "And you have better things to do with your mouth than insult me."

Ignis caught his lip between his teeth, staring up at Prompto with those lust-dark eyes. "On the bed with you, then. Stretched out."

He rose to his feet with smooth coerl-grace, like the hard floorboards he'd been kneeling on were nothing, and whipped off the bed comforter. He tossed it on the other bed, and grabbed the pillows from there, piling them up with the others. Setting the stage, Promtpo thought, grinning as Ignis arranged him next, sprawled out in the center of the bed with his hands behind his head and his mouth kiss-swollen and wet. Prompto appreciated the time and attention Ignis put into that last detail. It left him breathless, his whole body twitching in anticipation of touch.

Which reminded him... "You need to be naked. Give me the camera." 

Ignis did wince when he bent to pick it up – his poor dick – and Prompto rolled his eyes at him when he handed it over. Ignis gave a fluid shrug and pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. He was lucky Prompto was a professional and was trained to take action shots.

"Where are the stockings?" Ignis asked, manfully ignoring the urge to cover his own nipples, now stars of the small screen. Prompto directed him to his inside pocket and wondered idly whether any of this stuff would fit Ignis. Probably not, which was a crying shame: just thinking about it made his dick wet.

He was so distracted he nearly missed Ignis slipping out of both his tight sexy trousers and his insanely expensive underpants (Prompto teased him about them a lot, because that was the fastest way to make them disappear).

Ignis crawled up on the end of the bed, and Prompto pulled two pillows under his head, ready to shoot the perfect shot. Ignis glanced up through the hair that was just starting to fall into his face – a dangerous, threatening look that was super photogenic – and then produced one of the stockings, in a neat little roll held open with his thumbs. _Huh_ , Prompto thought, with the two brain cells that still functioned. _That's how those things work._

But then he was going crazy with the feeling of Ignis smoothing his hands up his leg, meticulous from toes to arch to ankle, up his calf to his knee, and then settling the top elastic band around his thigh. The way the stockings clung to his skin made it feel like Ignis was still touching him all over; it was kind of unbearable, so he found himself squirming as Ignis did his other leg. Fortunately for them both, Ignis was relentless, but he did kiss his way up Prompto's leg, his open mouth trailing after his hands. By the time he reached Prompto's inner thigh, Prompto had tears in his eyes from sheer frustrated lust.

"I thought," Ignis said, mouth still _right there_ , "you needed pictures for your portfolio."

Prompto didn't have the words to express his disbelief that Ignis was still speaking in complete sentences and had the gall to suggest that Prompto was slacking, but he had a not-so-secret weapon, and he'd just been goaded into deploying it. He slid his other leg up, acutely aware of the sheer smoothness of the stocking barrier between his skin and Ignis', and hooked his foot around to tug Ignis forward where he belonged.

Ignis obliged with a fluid, feral pounce forward that Prompto had to hustle to get a good shot of; in the next instant, he was mouthing along the length of Prompto's lace-covered dick, up to where the head had poked out at the top and got trapped by elastic. Ignis' tongue dipped under, hot and smooth, a relief from being dug into by the waistband. The shorts were obviously not made for a guy, because there had barely been room for his dick when he wasn't hard, and his balls had never really fit from the start. Now, he wasn't so much tenting them as nearly ripping through, not that Ignis seemed to mind.

He used his hands to urge Prompto to drape his legs over his shoulders, and while Prompto didn't entirely get what the lingerie did for Ignis, he was really digging this visual. He was used to his own naked body, but the sheer lace and stockings made his skin look new and exotic, like he was on display. And Ignis wasn't touching himself at all; he had his head between Prompto's thighs, sucking and tasting and moaning like Prompto was ambrosial, making him wonder if Iggy could get off just from this. If he should try and make him, someday.

Prompto rubbed at the tense lines of Ignis' back with his heels, and Ignis had to pull back to get air, his gasp sounding like a sob.

"Look at me," Prompto murmured, and snapped two pictures when Ignis glanced up. His finger was shaky on the shutter, but he trusted his hands to stay steady. Professional. On the display, Ignis looked like he was suffering agonies, but hey, he was the one setting the pace, here.

Which he proved by finally, decisively, catching the elastic in his teeth and tugging down, Prompto's dick sliding its wet length along his cheek (and what a picture that made). The waistband was tricky to ease down, needing to be tugged over each hip in turn, and Prompto lifted his ass to help. The back of the shorts was just a narrow strip of lace that had settled uncomfortably between his cheeks; the drag of it down and away was a relief. As the fabric was stripped away, Ignis traced its path with his tongue, soothing any irritation and making Prompto think really hard about where else he wanted Ignis' mouth.

Once the shorts were free of his ass and resting at the top of his thighs, Ignis took a break to suck Prompto's balls through the lace. Prompto had to grab some shots of that, too, even though he was squirming and his dick kept getting in the way. There was a fine line between unbearable pleasure and just plain unbearable, and the lace confused him, making it hard to know how he felt, and whether he should grind down or jerk away.

He needed something sure and certain, and he needed to get off, so he dug the condoms and lube out from under the pillow and told Ignis to get the panties off already and come lie down.

"Keep the stockings on," Ignis said, only slightly muffled by the lace between his teeth.

"And the bra?" Prompto asked. Ignis glanced up sharply, like he'd _cut_ anyone who messed with the bra. "You ridiculous pervert." Ignis shrugged and finished detaching the panties; he crawled up the bed with them in his teeth, dropping them on Prompto's pillow like a cat proudly presenting its kill, and stole a kiss. Or two, or ten. Prompto arched up against him, and cupped his hands around Ignis' ass. "You. Down."

Ignis used his hand-to-hand skills to flip Prompto over on top of him, still intently kissing, his hands exploring the bra straps. If only his Crownsguard trainers knew what he'd done with his years of martial arts training, they'd be horrified. Or impressed. Prompto pulled back, ignoring Ignis' grumble, and looked down at that gorgeous expanse of hard muscle, gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat. Okay, they'd be massively impressed, no question.

Any other time, Prompto would take his time getting his hands and mouth all over Ignis, turnabout being fair play, but they were both way too keyed up: this was going to be the world's fastest fuck, probably. He was cool with that. He got Ignis to raise up and shoved a pillow under his ass and then lubed up his fingers. Ignis was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, and he didn't even flinch when Prompto pushed two fingers in. Not deep, because he wanted Ignis to come on his dick, but he twisted his hand to try and dent Ignis' composure anyway. He was rewarded with a breathy little grunt that escaped the tightening of Ignis' jaw, and Ignis' cock jerked in anticipation.

He pushed a third finger in and Ignis had the nerve to say, "I hardly think that's necessary," which made Prompto have to stifle a laugh.

"I hardly think," he echoed, slipping his hand free and taking the condom Ignis handed him. "Yeah, yeah, you're getting what's coming to you. Gods." All suited up, he lined himself up and leaned in, one long stroke without stopping until he was as deep as he was going to get. Ignis wasn't complaining; Ignis was breathing in gratifying open-mouthed gasps. Prompto slid his hands under his knees and pushed up until Ignis took the hint and folded himself in half, knees up by his ears in a way normal people just couldn't, but that was Ignis for you.

The camera was right there, easily scooped up; for posterity's sake, Prompto felt he really needed a shot of Ignis' flexibility, and his face, and his gorgeous neglected dick, and his... posterior. And he pulled back slow for a couple quick selfies, just so he could hear the sweet, sweet sound of Ignis swearing that he'd run the car over the damned camera, he'd toss it in the next fishing hole, he'd – 

"You're cute," Prompto said, cutting him off, and then snapped his hips forward. He didn't relent with the pace, either, because he knew Ignis could take it. Ignis didn't know how to be passive in bed, and even while holding himself open like this he managed to meet every thrust with a clench of muscle like he wanted Prompto to stay there, possibly forever. But that wasn't in the cards: Prompto had a plan. He had to move fast, though; to his expert eye, he could see that Ignis was a hairsbreadth from shaking apart.

He reached up and pinched both his nipples through the lace of the bra, rolling them between his thumb and fingers, biting his lip against the way that sent prickles of electricity jolting through him, like he'd got too close to a spell being detonated. Ignis said _oh fucking hell_ very clearly and then gave a long, rough, sobbing groan as he started to come, totally untouched. Prompto kept up the show and the relentless pounding until Ignis' eyes fell shut and he went abruptly limp.

Prompto was ninety-nine-point-nine percent there himself, but he started to pull out anyway. Ignis hissed something unintelligible that sounded rude and wrapped his legs around his waist, yanking Prompto back, even though he had to be oversensitized. Well then. If Ignis wanted to keep being fucked, Prompto was down with that. Prompto was going to fuck him until not even Ignis' training could keep him from limping tomorrow, Prompto was – 

watching Ignis wipe come off his chin and lick his fingers clean, and that was all it took. The room whited out around them and Prompto's entire body buzzed and vibrated and went so light he started to drift up and away. He probably collapsed, he wasn't really sure, but he was fine leaving Ignis in charge of his physical body while he was gone.

When he came back to himself his head was on Ignis' chest and fingers were running through his hair. His dick was going soft inside Ignis, which was probably uncomfortable and wasn't so great for the condom, either. He sucked in a deep breath, then another, and sat up, which solved the pulling-out problem. Ignis made a small noise, like he was sore, a definite possibility. Prompto tied the condom off – priorities – and then dropped back down to wrap Ignis up and kiss him as much as he could before Ignis' lust for a shower eclipsed his tolerance for snuggling.

Washed clean and stumbling with the need for sleep, they fell into the spare bed, naked and damp and tangled up in each other. Prompto was asleep before he had time to return Ignis' _good night_.

*

He woke to daylight and the unmistakable sound of Ignis trying to be secretive about jerking off.

Possibly, Prompto had died and gone to sex heaven the night before. He rolled over, stretching and opening his eyes, getting an elbow under him so he could see.

"What's up?" he said.

Ignis had the camera in one hand and his dick in the other, but he still said, "Nothing," and then, "Good morning," as if maybe he thought Prompto hadn't noticed? Or... hm.

"Morning," Prompto said, bright and chirpy. He squirmed closer for the first kiss of the day. "Need a hand with that?" He poked the head of Iggy's dick, which twitched like it was happy to see him, too.

"If you're offering." 

There was something going on in Ignis' head, making him a bit distant, and Prompto didn't like it. He kissed him again and then shooed his hand off his dick, taking over. "Any good pics?"

"I – " Ignis started, voice cracking as Prompto started up with tantalizingly slow strokes. He wanted to be just that much more annoying that whatever Ignis was worrying about. "I wouldn't want you to assume it was merely the clothes – that anyone would have sufficed." Prompto raised his eyebrows and gave Ignis a _look_. He slid his palm over the head on the upstroke. "Or that we need to do that all the time," Ignis continued doggedly, chest heaving. "Or indeed, ever again."

Prompto decided to take mercy on him, dropping a kiss on his nose. "I get it. Okay? And," he went on, picking up the pace, "you and I both know you fell for me when I was wearing a fucking Malboro-kun snapback."

"You have a beautiful smile," Ignis protested like he always did. "That was all I saw."

Prompto grinned at him, smug as all get out, and Ignis reached up to cup his cheek for a moment, thumb rubbing fondly at the corner of his mouth. "That what you were looking at and getting all hot over? Pictures of me smiling?"

"Some," Ignis hedged. Prompto reached for the camera with his free hand, and Ignis passed it over a bit sheepishly, like he knew he was going to get called out as a liar as soon as Prompto saw the photo he'd been jerking off to.

Which. Holy _fuck_. "I got blessed by the porn fairy," he breathed out. "Damn. Get it, Iggy."

Ignis made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat that sounded like concentrated sex, and flexed his hips so he fucked up into Prompto's tight grip. Mister Impatience.

"We are definitely doing this again," Prompto said, taking one more glance at exactly what the bra and the panties had done for him when he'd had them on, before dropping the camera and getting back to the job at hand. "Occasionally, cause that's fucking dangerous. I totally have the power to make you crash the car, and then Cindy'd kill us both, which'd suck."

"I would never," Ignis said, but that was a weak, obvious lie.

"Though – " Prompto turned up the evil in his grin – "this goes both ways, right? Because Noct wants to hit the Assassin's Festival, and you'd be scorching in cosplay."

"Maybe," Ignis said, breathless and flushed.

"Will you give me a solid yes if I put my bra on?" Prompto asked, and was shocked when Ignis came hard, barely managing to smother a groan as his whole body tightened with pleasure. "Holy Six above. You'd _so_ crash the car."

Ignis' shuddering gasps broke into laughter, bright and uncomplicated, and he pulled Prompto in for sloppy, giddy, toe-curlingly good kissing.

"Stretch out," Ignis murmured finally, one hand stroking Prompto's hair in a way that made him want to purr. "I'm going to make you see stars, and then you'll be sorry." His tongue flicked along his lower lip in thoughtful threat, and Prompto shuddered.

"Oh no," he said, swooning onto the mattress with the back of his hand thrown theatrically across his forehead. "Please – not the _fellatio_."

"No saving you now," Ignis intoned, using the accent to sound like a perfect video-game villain. Prompto was still snickering when Ignis slid his mouth down – and down – and _all_ the way down, to that place where Prompto's higher brain functions shut off. All he could think was that he really was the luckiest guy he knew.


End file.
